Recount the Night that I First Met Your Mother ((one-shot))
by SuspiciousFlashlight
Summary: <html><head></head>Meeting your significant other's parents is always difficult. It's...always this difficult, right? ((T for safety?)) ((bebe x clyde))</html>


We did almost everything a cheesy and normal couple would do. We watched old movies together, we cuddled in a nest on the bed, we went to each others events, we even drank out of the same cup with dual straws. He once took me out to a roller-rink where we dressed up in sparkly outfits and made fools of ourselves.

Our relationship was mostly light. We've been in it for years, now, ever since we were...ten? The entire school was surprised with my choice in him. When we were little, he was the forgetful, clumsy cry-baby. I was, and still am, the blonde bombshell that everyone thinks is the prettiest. Nobody knew why I chose him, I just did, and we grew on each other to the point of love.

We rarely fought, and we never fought over the little things. Sometimes, while walking to school, Clyde would wrap his arms around me and spin me around, or ambush me on the way home and take me to the park to swing together. He was...one of the best boyfriends I've had, and the only one I've tolerated for more than a little over a year.

Finally, we did the one thing that other couples do, but we were avoiding; he formally met my parents.

The dinner was...long. But, Clyde was...unexpectedly polite and patient. My mother has never been the brightest, and in spite of what she saw my future as, I studied harder than she ever had in her life. Clyde was kind to her and never lost his touch, and barely struggled to nod along to her brainless stories about her incredibly easy life.

It was the drive home I was dreading. There was something about the way Clyde interacted with my mom, that worried me, a little. He wasn't exactly growing attached to her at a rapid rate, but he was looking at her with a look of adoration I hadn't seen in his eyes for a long time. It's possible, in his head, he was thinking of the days when she might possibly be his step-mom.

It turns out, I was right to dread the drive home.

"Clyde, babe, where are we going? We passed your house." I asked, sitting up in the seat and watching his house disappear behind us. "Are you okay?"

I glanced up to my long-term boyfriend and inspected his face. His strong jaw and full cheeks, his fitting nose, and the soft smile curved on his face. "Yeah, Bebe. I'm fine," he replied, but didn't say where he was taking me. Only slightly on edge, I settled back down into the car seat and looked out the window, wondering where we could go.

He suddenly pulled the car to a stop, in the middle of the road, and turned to look at me. His face was illuminated by a streetlight we stopped under, so I could see the weird look in his eyes.

"Wanna go meet my mom?"

My heart sank. I took a deep breath and ran my thin fingers over the dusty dash board in thought. There wasn't much to think about, though. Either I could not go, and possibly hurt Clyde's feelings, or we could go, and Clyde might cry.

"Let's...let's go." I replied with a small smile, holding onto his hand encouragingly. His smile grew some as he started up the car again, driving with one hand so he could still hold onto mind.

My heart was racing as we approached the graveyard; maybe only 50 graves nestled in the snow. He stopped the car against the sidewalk and stepped out, walking around the car and opening the door for me, taking my hand again and helping me out. I smiled gracefully as he kissed my hand and wrapped his arm around me, kicking the door closed and starting to walk into the snow-covered yard.

Clyde navigated his way through the faceless names and death-dates until he reached the stone he was looking for. It was large, somewhat larger than the others, with countless, wilted flowers decorating around it. We both crouched and then sat down in the snow next to it, not caring how wet our clothes got from the snow.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" I asked in return, still holding his hand.

"Talk to her."

I took a deep breath, already feeling a lump forming in my throat. As a child, I didn't know Clyde's mom very well...I barely knew what she looked like, and I still barely do. But, Clyde was my boyfriend, and this was his mom.

"Hey, Mrs. Donovan, it's Bebe Stevens. Let me just say this now, I think you'd be very proud of Clyde. I love him very, _very_ much, and he treats me just as any good man should treat their woman." I said with a smile and soft laugh, tilting my head some and letting my eyes run over the text engraved into the stone. Clyde's hand was shaking over mine. "I'm really, really sorry I never got to know you better, because I know you were a great woman who raised her son right. I'm...I'm not really sure what to say, I mean, I never know what to say to boyfriend's mothers. I've, uh...been dating Clyde for many years now, and, I've never been happier with someone. Your son is a great man, and I'm really lucky to have him. I hope you're doing okay, wherever you are. We'll see you someday, but I think we both hope it won't be for a very long time."

I didn't acknowledge the tears rolling down my face and how Clyde barely took any breaths as I spoke.

"I guess...it's appropriate to say, uh, I love you, Mrs. Donovan." I finished, sitting in silence, facing a silent gravestone.

"Th-Thank you, Bebe..." Clyde stammered, tears staining his face as he turned to look at me. I gave a soft smile, but the lump in my throat grew, seeing him vulnerable.

"Of course, Clyde. Do you want me to meet you back in the car?"

He nodded quietly, smile shaking hard. I kissed his nose and stood up, quietly pulling my coat closer around me while walking into the car. As soon as I closed the door, I cried. I cried pretty hard, and only stopped about a minute before Clyde came back.

Clyde got in the car, turned it on, and pulled back onto the street. We didn't talk for a little while, only sniffled at random times.

"Clyde, I love you." I said while giving him a glance. I saw a weight lift off his shoulders as he gave me a soft, very small, smile.

"I love you too, Bebe."


End file.
